


The New Men (or, A Present from Ethan)

by katekat



Series: The New Men [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Pollen, maleslashminis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-07
Updated: 2007-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katekat/pseuds/katekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4th season Btvs, what would have happened if Wesley had been along on the demon hunting trip in A New Man instead of Willow?  And if Ethan had felt less like turning Giles into a monster and more… mischievous?   Written for  and in particular  who requested Giles/Wes/ (with the third as either Xander or Ethan) and books.  Sorry Mir, Ethan popped in, but then kind of ran away after he'd set his plan in motion.  Silly man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Men (or, A Present from Ethan)

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: **Joss is fairly fabulous, and you can tell I'm not exactly him, I just like to play with his boys from time to time.
> 
> **Feedback:** Welcomed and appreciated. Concrit is valued as well, although preferred in an email.
> 
> **Thanks: **To Elizabuffy and Lostgirlslair! You both rock my world beyond the telling of it! All corrections are theirs, all remaining mistakes are mine.

**.: Wesley :. **

 

Giles' call came as quite a surprise. Wesley had left his Los Angeles number with the other watcher, just in case, but he had never, ever expected to be called as backup. Evidently Buffy was no where to be found, and there was a demon rising. Wes couldn't stop the little warm glow in his chest when he thought about the call – he'd proved himself, at least to someone. Or proved that he could be counted on in an emergency, at the least.

 

But the entire drive up he'd thought about his time in Sunnydale. It wasn't that long ago, and yet… there were worlds in-between the man he was now and the man he'd been then. The thought of long hours researching in that atrocious high school library made him sigh a little bit with nostalgia – Angel and Cordelia were lovely people, but it was never truly interesting to be the only one searching for something, and he still didn't trust Cordelia's insistence that they could find everything via Google. The sum of human knowledge was not on the internet. Human stupidity, perhaps. But Rupert Giles was a man who knew the value of a good book.

 

The road stretched in front of him, and his eyes tracked the lines and cars around him mechanically, while a memory of Giles' hands played across his inner eye – the way his long fingers would stroke over book covers, each page was turned, with the right book, with a delicate grace. He had spent long hours in that library watching Giles with his books. He never worried that Mr. Giles (at least that's what he'd called him, even in his head, back then) would notice his obsession, the man was always too absorbed in what he was doing. Wesley felt safe watching, quietly wishing that the man beside him would show interest like that in him. He spun fantasies about those hands, and then shook them off to engage in heated debates with Giles (and sometimes the others – Xander and Willow and Oz, and more rarely Buffy) about the Mayor, the Council, this or that translation. Even though he'd been at odds with them so often, their camaraderie had been stimulating, and he'd thought nothing of his quiet fantasies. He'd always had them about someone, after all. It had been his way of escape, through years of lessons and college classes where he was too determined to study to properly fit in. It was locked up in his head, nothing he would act on, just the quiet contemplation that never went anywhere. Harmless, really.

 

He'd felt safe in that, at least. Until he'd turned his eyes up after one long afternoon, and been caught by someone else's look. Giles was saying something to Willow about a panel he'd managed to find, unconsciously smoothing the page he was discussing under his fingertips with deft strokes. Wesley was daydreaming about how that soft touch would feel along his shoulder blades, when Giles gestured towards another book, further down the table, and Wesley's eyes had followed his hand to find Xander, across the table, doing the exact same thing. At least until Xander turned right back and looked Wesley straight in the eye. There was a moment of recognition, when the knowledge that they were both doing the same thing, watching the same man, thinking about those same hands, reflected in Xander's eyes. Wes had almost gasped, but had the good sense at the time to merely raise his eyebrows as if there was nothing wrong. Xander had grinned, though, a feral grin that seemed out of character, and shifted his gaze back to Giles' hands on the books between them.

 

At the time Wesley had felt he'd been revealed somehow. He assumed Xander would say something, would do something, to call attention to Wesley's obsession, embarrass him. But the young man had been uncharacteristically silent – at least about that look.

 

And that had been that. The Mayor was vanquished, the town made safe from apocalypse again, Wesley sacked from his job, and Los Angeles on the horizon.

 

Now he was going back, and Wesley wondered why his unconscious had called up those particular daydreams, and that moment of recognition. He wondered what Xander was doing these days.

 

***

 

**.: Xander :. **

 

_That didn't work out exactly how it was supposed to_, Xander thought. He'd started out the night wondering if he should be sad about Anya. Tonight had been their final fight. After the Gentlemen had come, and he'd punched Spike out, thinking he had saved her, he thought she'd be ok with him not being in love with her. Apparently the idea that love might develop but hadn't yet wasn't what she was looking for. Not that he could really blame her. It's just that he wasn't sure – and he wanted to be sure. After everything with Cordy and Willow, after Faith, he just didn't know if he was built for love. Lust, sure. Like, oh, he could do like. But love? Buffy-and-Angel-soul-mates-love? He wasn't even sure that he wanted that. And even though Anya staggered him every time he saw her, even though when she walked into the room he had this little shiver where he went, "that girl is mine? That girl is mine!", he was pretty sure his mental happy wasn't the kind of thing she was looking for.

 

She'd left the basement looking sad, and he'd wanted to hug her. But she'd cut him off, saying that she couldn't do that with him right now, that it was too misleading. And he felt like a jerk, because even though he was sad, he wasn't _sad_-sad, and he knew it. Which is why the whole conversation had worked out the way it had.

 

But Giles had called, and he thanked telephone operators every where for getting him out of his basement before Spike came back and wanted to save the world. Not that it wasn't what he and Giles… and apparently Wesley… were going to do, but something about the vampires' new perky attitude had really creeped him out, and he'd rater be saving the world with the human people that weren't quite so bouncy, even if they were British.

 

He'd found Giles and Wes standing around kind of awkwardly at Giles' house, and they'd headed out to the crypt only to find it swept clean. That's when Xander had made the mistake of mentioning the Initiative, only to find out that Giles didn't know anything about it. Xander felt so bad when he saw the guy's shoulders slump. He knew that things between Giles and Buffy weren't quite the "I see you every day and tell you all" kind of stage, but there was nothing he could really say to make Giles feel better. He was sure the Buffster was just a little preoccupied with Riley to remember to call. After all, it wasn't like they had their free study period at Giles' house or anything and could update him on every night's slayage. Heck, Xander hadn't even been out on patrol with Buffy for a couple of weeks, either. Luckily this was one of those times when Xander kept his thoughts to himself, mostly, though, and didn't make it worse for Giles.

 

Only now they were heading back, and Giles was apologizing to Wes for making him drive, and suggesting that the least he could do was buy the guy a drink, and Xander's evening prospects were looking pretty dim again. At least, until Giles had invited him along. That was a little different, but Xander perked up, thinking maybe that meant Giles was thinking of him as one of the guys. Or, as "one of the guys" as you could get when their group of guys included Wesley and Spike. But, whatever. He had a fake ID. He could have a beer. So he sat in the booth, sipped a beer, and watched Giles and Wes be British with each other. He felt like he was back in high school, watching the two of them argue about some text Wes wanted to take with him when he went back to LA.

 

Well, that's what he thought he was doing, until he realized he wasn't watching their faces or paying attention to their voices, but had switched to concentrating on their hands.

 

See, this was one of the other reasons why he didn't really think it was a bad thing that he hadn't promised Anya he was in it for the long haul. He didn't know if it was just watcher hands or what, but…

 

Wes' hand drummed on the table, and Xander watched the precise movement of each finger. Wondered what those fingers would taste like. Yes, he could admit it, he'd wondered for years. Wondered if the tips were as sensitive as they looked. And Giles – both of Giles hands were around his pint glass, strong hands, kinda bumpy and weathered, not as long as Wes' but … he thought about them too. About how strong they could grip, about how they knew what they were doing, always knew.

 

It made him remember that one afternoon when he'd caught Wes staring at Giles' hands. That had been crazy, recognizing that the other guy was doing the same thing he was. Wes had raised his eyebrows. It was a challenge, and Xander felt a little competitive spark rise in him, and he grinned back. Yeah, so, he was looking at Giles' hands too. They weren't Wes' property, were they?

 

He hadn't thought about that in ages, but now, seeing them both gesturing and moving, he wondered again if maybe it was something about watcher hands.

 

And that was when their waitress brought them the next round

 

***

 

**.: Giles :.**

 

Giles looked at the fresh pints and turned to the woman setting them on the table, "Thank you, but we didn't order these."

 

"Oh, no, don't worry about it. This guy over there…" she turned to the bar to point at a man Giles vaguely remembered rescuing from a vampire attack several weeks ago, "bought 'em. Said the least he could do was say thanks for the jam your friend here helped him out of the other night."

 

Giles felt his eyebrows raise at that. He turned to look at Wesley and Xander, but both looked as surprised as he did. The waitress had lost interest at this point and moved away from their table.

 

Xander was grinning, "Look at that! I knew that this hero business was going to come in handy someday!" He finished his own beer and reached for one of the new ones. Wesley put his hand on Xander's, and Giles watched as Xander took a small quick breath, and then looked questioningly at Wes.

 

"Do you know that man?" Wes asked.

 

"Nah, but I'm guessing that somebody saved him from a fang attack at some point."

 

"Actually, I think I did." Giles broke in. Wesley looked at him in surprise, but then reached for one of the remaining glasses. "The other night coming home from the college, I found a single vampire stalking a man that looked very much like our benefactor in a blind alley and was able to dispatch him."

 

"There, see Wes, nothing to worry about!" Xander took a sip of his new drink, and smiled again at them both. "I wish all slaying came with this kind of reward. But, then again, probably make it hard to get home after said slayage."

 

"Probably." Wesley agreed, although he looked like he privately didn't think a single beer would affect him that much. He took a sip of his own drink and raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "At least he picked something with a taste."

 

Giles raised his own glass to savor and agreed with Wes. This was better than the first pint they'd ordered – in fact, he knew for sure this wasn't on the menu. Their mystery benefactor certainly had good taste. He took another, larger sip, and felt the refreshing glide.

 

An hour later and they all had another pint in hand, and they'd moved from talking about books to the Initiative. Giles knew he was being maudlin, but he couldn't help himself.

 

"You know what gets me? This is what gets me. Twenty years I've been fighting demons. Maggie Walsh and her Nancy-ninja boys come in and six months later, demons are pissing themselves with fear. They never even noticed me."

 

Wesley drunkenly asked, "Who's Maggie Walsh?"

 

"Oh, she's awful." Giles screwed his face up in disgust, "She said I was an absent male role model. Absent my ass. I'm twice the man she is."

 

"Cheer up Giles," Xander slurred, "it's not like Buffy's going to go running off and join the Initiative. She'd hate the uniforms, for one. Besides, what's Maggie Walsh know about you?" Xander reached out and patted Giles' hand across the table.

 

"That's right, she can't know anything. Who does she think she is, presuming to know what the Slayer needs." Wesley was getting indignant now. "Let's go over there and tell her a thing or two! Gods man, you've helped Buffy survive two apocalypses and a vampire boyfriend intent on raising indestructible demons and destroying the world!"

 

Giles grinned at the two men who sat opposite him, both defending him in their own way. He'd felt so frustrated minutes ago in the evening, but now, with them both trying to console him in their own ways, he wondered if it wasn't such a bad thing that the evening had worked out as it had. They'd come a long way from that school library. He liked them both though – respected them – as more than comrades at arms. Truth be told, he'd liked to have more than friendship from either one of them, but … that was another story.

 

***

 

**.: Xander :.**

 

Just then their waitress appeared at the edge of the table, "Last call – anybody interested?"

 

Xander frowned. It was time to go? But… he didn't want to leave. Giles was finally in a good mood, and … he frowned again as he realized he'd muttered that whole thing out loud. Wes shoved him a little bit with his shoulder and Giles was looking at him with a grin. Ok, fine, maybe he wasn't the soberest of sober people, but he didn't have anything else to do and the thought of the basement was less and less appealing.

 

Giles cleared his throat, "Well, if Xander doesn't want to go home, and we can't stay here, you'd best both come over. You can get your book, Wesley."

 

Xander brightened at that. "Okay, but Wes, you gotta let me out before we go. I need to see a man about a horse." Wes looked confused, and Xander pushed a little at him. "Wes, I gotta go." Comprehension dawned (slower than usual, it seemed to Xander, but he didn't really mind, since he was still pushing at a warm shoulder), and Wes scrambled out of the booth. Xander threw some money onto the table for their tab, and half-skipped towards the bathroom, hearing the tale end of Wes' comment as he moved away, "I don't suppose I could impose on you, Giles, for the night? I don't think I'm quite in the best condition to drive at the moment…"

 

He wandered through the door of the men's room and wondered if Wes was really that much of a lightweight. They'd only had like three beers. Xander himself was feeling pretty good, but not in a beery kind of way. Though, as he pulled up to the urinal, he realized that things were kind of soft around the edges. Pretty, really. Not the room, but kind of the light. And his clothes seemed more comfortable than usual. He stroked a hand down the denim and then freed himself, and sighed in relief. _Wow, didn't realize I had to go that bad. Man this is kind of fun. It's been a long time since I've had fun peeing._ But even signing was fun, so he kept breathing deep, and felt this silly grin break out. _I'm just happy not to be in that crappy basement, and kind of happy to be hanging like one of the guys. That's all_ he rationalized.

 

Finishing his business, he moved over to wash his hands, and realized then that the water felt really good. Better than usual. Good enough that he wanted to kind of stay there, under the cool. But then he remembered Giles and Wes out in the bar, waiting for him, so they could go back to Giles' place, and grinned even wider. He dried his hands on his pants _mmm… denim_ and wandered back out.

 

"Ready to go gentlemen?" he said as he approached the table. Giles smiled up at him, moving to rise, and Wes slid out from the booth. Yep, just three guys, going back to Giles' place to hang out.

 

***

 

** .: Wesley :. **

 

That was the most fantastic walk he'd taken in years. He really couldn't believe it. But the Sunnydale night had been without fear – just a sparkling crisp California evening. He knew it had something to do with the company though. Xander had babbled and grinned and joked their way through the streets, Giles laughing out right at some of the worst puns, and Wesley felt as if these two men were somehow sharing friendship with him in ways they hadn't before. And the air felt so good! They trooped down Giles' stairs, rather, he and Giles trooped down them and Xander hopped like a bunny, grinning madly all the way, and they had trouble keeping their voices down for the neighbors.

 

Not that Giles was any help. He turned at his front door with keys in hand and said, with a clear voice and a smile, "Shhhh! I have neighbors, you know, and they like to sleep."

 

"Sure Giles, you totally have neighbors," Xander grinned back, not bothering to keep his voice down, "but you think they're going to notice us when they didn't even come out for the Shumash attack?"

 

"Shumash attack?" Wesley wondered aloud.

 

"Yeah, you must've heard about it from Angel, right Wes?" Xander bumped his shoulder against Wes' again, a sensation Wes was rapidly beginning to enjoy.

 

They tumbled through Giles' door, and Wesley remembered Angel's trip to Sunnydale. "Oh absolutely. Angel came back complaining about Buffy's new paramour, and … " he grinned and butted Xander's shoulder with his own, "Was that when you got the funny syphilis, Xander?"

 

Apparently nothing could dampen Xander's mood. He toed his shoes off, plunked down, feet and all, on Giles' couch with a laugh and a strangely nostalgic smile. "Yeah, although it didn't feel exactly great at the time. But at least Giles let me crash on his couch while I was sick." He smiled at the owner of the apartment, who moved the offending socked feet into his lap as he sat on the other end of the couch.

 

Giles petted Xander's feet and his eyes crinkled, "My furniture is yours anytime Xander. Especially when you get the mystically induced diseases." That made Xander laugh again and murmur his thanks.

 

Wesley found himself standing in front of them, unwilling to sit across the room on the other chair and unable to figure out why it seemed so offensively far away. Both men were watching him, both seemed relaxed, and he watched as Giles' hand moved over Xander's foot, and Xander's hand moved to pet his own stomach. Xander closed his eyes, "That feels good Giles. Wesley, you need to sit down. You're too tall like that."

 

Wesley nodded, as if statements like that made perfect sense. He mourned, "It's just that the chair is so far away."

 

"Then sit on the floor," Giles suggested, pushing the coffee table with his feet so that there was more room for Wesley. Wes settled on the floor in front of Giles, between his legs, leaning against the furthest one so he could turn to see both men above him. He took a deep breath, then relaxed, and Giles' free hand reached out to pet him. Wes leaned into the touch, and then had a momentary sense of disorientation. This wasn't really how he usually interacted with Giles or Xander, and he was fairly sure this wasn't how they acted with each other, either. He almost said something, but was distracted by the feeling of Giles' hand in his hair, the warmth radiating from the man's legs, and the feeling of contentment that settled over him.

 

He closed his eyes, and titled his head so it was leaning against Giles' knee, felt those fingers sliding through his hair again and smiled.

 

***

**.: Giles :.**

 

"Something's different" Giles mused aloud, as he scratched at Wesley's hair, loosening the gel and enjoying the rough blunt edges of the ends.

 

"Yeah, I know. Feels good though." Xander responded from the other end of the couch, his eyes closed down to slits now.

 

Wesley butted Giles' hand, almost like a kitten, "We don't usually sit around and pet each other. I wonder if it was the beer?" His voice was soft, a little rougher around the edges as if he was a bit dreamy too.

 

Giles considered. Of course, while he considered he continued to push his thumb up the arch of Xander's foot, and smiled at the "mmmm" noise the man made. Really, Xander was adorable like this, relaxed and sleepy looking. Giles breathed deeply, remembered Wesley leaning against him, and wondered at his own contentment.

 

"I suspect…" he began, while watching Wes remove his glasses and set them on the coffee table. Wes moved back against his legs, snuggling between them, and wrapped his arm around one. Giles lost his train of thought when Wesley dropped his head against Giles' knee and nuzzled, just a little. It sent shivers through him, as if Wesley was doing more than simply cuddling around his leg.

 

He cleared his throat. "I suspect it was the beer. Although I'm wondering if we were somehow given ecstasy."

 

"Ecstasy? Like, you mean, the drug ecstacy?" Xander opened his eyes at that, and Giles noticed his pupils were impossibly large in the soft light. "How would you know? Have you done it before?"

 

"Not really my thing, but I've heard of it." Giles responded, and wondered if his own pupils were that large. He knew he should be worrying right now, but he didn't really feel the need. The only thing he really felt like doing was being exactly where he was. "Or perhaps it was a spell? I've never heard of a spell quite like this, but I can't imagine that someone hasn't invented one at this point."

 

From below he felt Wesley humm his agreement, "I thought something was funny. I wonder if your friend from the bar did that?" He looked up at Giles, and then at Xander, "Although, I find that I'm not as concerned as I probably should be."

 

Xander laughed. "Yeah, we're all sitting here calmly discussing this like we were talking about what we ate for dinner. It's probably because we're distracted. That's why I had so much fun in the bathroom though, huh?"

 

Giles felt the beginnings of an indulgent frown start, "Fun in the bathroom? What were you doing in there Xander?"

 

"Oh, nothing, the usual, but my jeans felt really comfortable in there. And the water was really soft. Kinda like right now. Your couch is the most comfortable place in the universe." He stopped for a moment, looking speculatively at Giles and Wesley both. Giles noticed Wes still had his eyes closed. He had such a lovely face. Giles couldn't help himself – he ran a single finger down that cheekbone and watched Wesley's lips as they smiled.

 

"Giles?" Xander asked, and caught his attention away from the man against his knee. Xander sat up, and then moved towards Giles' end of the couch. "Can I snuggle too?"

 

Giles felt a surge run through him at the question. Oh, it was a lazy surge, a warm rush that tingled from head to toe, then lodged in the back of his throat and made his cheeks feel tight from smiling so much. He didn't want to deny Xander anything at this moment, and so raised his arm, and Xander settled in, this time stretching his feet in the other direction. Giles heaved a great sigh, and then curled his arm tighter around the younger man. He was a heavy perfect weight against Giles' side. But Xander kept twisting, as if he couldn't get comfortable. Wesley shifted again on the floor.

 

"Am I the only one perfectly comfortable here?" Giles asked.

 

Xander moved a little to grin up at him, and Wesley nodded against his knee. "The floor isn't soft. Is there anywhere else we can all sit together?" Wesley asked, a longing tone in his voice.

 

"Wesley?" Xander said, "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

 

Wesley turned his head towards Xander, and in the world's most serene voice said, "I think I am. What do you say Xander? Giles?" Wesley looked towards him, and Giles felt his bones melt under the heat of that heavy lidded stare. He couldn't say no to that, whatever it was Wesley was asking… offering…

 

He whispered into the shell of Xander's ear, "What do you think, Xander? Should we take him up on his offer?" Xander shuddered, and Giles felt anther surge of want, knowing his voice could do that. Well, his voice combined with whatever Wesley had just put on offer.

 

"Yeah," came the breathless reply. "Yeah, we definitely should."

 

***

 

** .: Wesley :.**

 

They were both grinning down at him, and Wesley didn't want to blink for fear that this was just a dream. It felt like it, like every movement was more charged than real, and that the words Xander had just uttered still hung in the air with a caressing weight. But he didn't want to wake up. Oh no, he wanted to dive deeper. And apparently that was fine with the two men above him.

 

He took Xander's assent as the invitation it was, and stopped resisting that pouting bottom lip on the other man. He leaned across Giles' leg to capture it, eyes closing as he brushed against Xander's mouth. It was succulent, that kiss, and Wesley thought he might just be able to stay there forever, lips against Xander's, feeling the pressure get stronger as Xander's surprise gives way to interest. And then Xander's lips parted, his tongue brushed along Wesley's lips, and he felt as if a live wire hand exploded in his spine as he opened his mouth to the other man. Everything movement of their lips together was soft, explorative, as if neither man could quite believe what was happening, and yet Wesley was loath to pull away.

 

Until he heard Giles groan above him. That delicious noise was enough to surprise him away from the tender heat of Xander's lips, to look at the watcher above him, and see those green eyes darkening. Wesley realized Giles' hand had slipped to the back of his neck, and had been kneading through his kiss with Xander.

 

Xander, who leaned away from Wes, panting. Wesley smiled. He'd made Xander pant.

 

"Oh man. Ok, um… Giles?" Xander seemed to be caught in a long slow blink, "Giles, any way we can get Wes up here? Because that was worth doing again."

 

Wesley smiled. He liked the sound of that. The thought of kissing Xander over and over, until he completely breathless.

 

"I think," Giles responded, "I think we're going to have to move to the loft, to do this properly." Wesley glanced upward, remembering that the only thing Giles had in the loft was a bed. He couldn't help himself, he moaned. "I think Wesley's in agreement." Giles chuckled. "Xander?"

 

Xander slid off the couch and stood, holding out his hands to pull Wesley from the ground. "Bed? Oh, yeah, I think I can get on board with that."

 

~ the end, for now ~


End file.
